dohhuuuuu

[pimpmyship]

Characters: pimpmyship AND YOU
Where & When: IN SOME BAR... in the Metropolis district why not!! The night after Christmas.
Rating: PG?? KIDS DON'T DRINK WHEN YOU'RE SAD. YOU KNOW WHAT JUST DON'T DRINK IF YOU'RE A KID
Summary: Warrius drinks because he's sad and has guilt complexes the size of harlock's hair

Comments

[sansfear]

Had it been a regular bar in a regular city of regular people, Mr. Bird's crowing would have hushed much of the conversational noise around the room. As it was, though, Splendor was not a regular city with regular people, so the animal's fanfare went relatively unnoticed.

It didn't matter one way or the other to the bird's perch; Harlock didn't take any satisfaction one way or the other out of being noticed anymore.

Years and years had passed since the captains had set their firearms aside and raised glasses together. That small gathering over Tochiro's workshop had been one of the last of its kind - less rowdy than the crew of 42, warmer than half-empty glasses with Miime. Tochiro hadn't lasted much longer, and once the Arcadia rose...

Well, so much for that. Harlock's footsteps rang in the present, drawn closer to the back of someone that seemed much more ingrained in the past.

[pimpmyship]

Warrius was distracted, as he'd been so far, face leaned into his hand. He was starting to feel tired and affected by the alcohol, but he hadn't decided that it was yet time for him to head back.

The familiar crowing brought him back to reality; he only turned his head enough to confirm who was accompanying the bird. It brought out a bittersweet smile and exhale, turning onwards again to take another sip from the glass. The captain set it back down on the counter, waiting.

[sansfear]

It wasn't so much a wish as a passing notion, but the whiskey was set out for him nonetheless; the tender had no inclination to greet or even give a passing glance to the new captain and his noisy companion. It was odd etiquette for such an establishment, but Splendor was odd enough - one anti-social barkeep was hardly cause for concern.

The clank of Harlock's boots ceased at the bar where the drink had slid into view, just at Warrius' side. He took the seat without invitation or announcement (save for the bird hopping down with a graceless thud and hobbling around - wishes granted and all, there was a fish nearby it could pilfer without punishment). Half of the drink vanished in the silence, neither prompted nor prompting anything from his acquaintance. It wasn't an ignorant quiet, though - Harlock knew the air of discontent and how it hung on the shoulders of even the most sober of men. It wasn't hard to acknowledge or understand at the moment. More importantly, it wasn't his; those feelings or problems were Warrius', and that man

[pimpmyship]

As Harlock took his place, Warrius granted him another passing glance before returning his attention to the glass. He almost made a conscious effort to stop thinking about the matters that had weighed on his heart and brought him there to clear his mind. The expression on his face was heavy, both with discomfort and the determination to brush that same feeling off. His eyes were still looking away, focusing on the bottles on display, half-distracted by the loud bird, and he spoke the first word of the night.

"Why are you here?"